Nobody Hooks Up at Weddings
by FactofFiction
Summary: "What does she even think she's doing?" He asked incredulously, "Nobody hooks up at weddings." Tim bit his tongue to hold back his laugh, "Uh, Tony. Everybody hooks up at weddings." One-shot about what most definitely would have happened if the team had been able to attend Jimmy and Breena's wedding.


**Hello beautiful people of**

 **So this is a concept that I've been sitting on for a while and in the midst of my procrastinating for finals, I finally got around to writing it. I literally wrote, edited, and published this in one day which I really never do but here it is.**

 **Also, if you clicked on this story before and it was just a bunch of weird computer mumbo-jumbo, please know that I had nothing to do with that and I have spent like half an hour trying to get this to come out the way it was supposed to. I don't know why my doc manager hates me today.**

 **But of course: I own nothing. Characters are not mine. Image is not mine.**

 **Enjoy!**

Tony was sitting alone at the bar, knuckles white as he gripped his nearly empty glass of Gin Negroni. His jaw was clenched and his shoulders tight as his narrowed eyes stayed trained on something across the room.

McGee made sure to approach with caution, slowly sliding into the seat beside his coworker as he tried to identify what exactly was holding the older man's attention. His own eyes landed on a couple dancing in the middle of the floor.

 _Of course,_ he thought.

He cleared his throat, hoping to draw the attention of his partner. It didn't seem to work, so he chose to speak instead, "Isn't that the bartender?"

Tony nodded.

"Shouldn't he be working?"

"One would think, Tiny Tim. But evidently, that is not the case. He shut the whole bar down. Just to dance with _her._ "

Tim watched as he tilted his head back and let the last but of his drink slide down his throat. The music changed, moving from an upbeat country song to a smooth R&B track. Bodies shifted across the floor as some couples exited, others entered, and the remaining ones adjusted their movements to fit the new rhythm.

Both men watched the couple in question, waiting to see if they would go their separate ways. They didn't. Instead, they seemed to get closer together as their bodies started moving along to the new song.

Tony motioned toward them, "This is song number 3. Isn't the guy gonna get back to doing his damn job?"

"You need another drink, Tony?" Tim asked as he looked at the empty glass in his hand.

His partner ignored him. He was too busy watching Ziva's hands as they fell from the guy's shoulders, down his arms, coming to rest on top of his which were planted firmly on her hips. He watched her dress flow around her as she swayed back and forth. He watched the fabric flatten against her rear as the guy's hands shifted to cup it.

He put down his empty glass, afraid if he held it too much longer he would end up paying for it.

"What does she even think she's doing?" He asked incredulously, "Nobody hooks up at weddings."

Tim bit his tongue to hold back his laugh, "Uh, Tony. Everybody hooks up at weddings."

Tony shook his head, "Not bridesmaids."

" _Especially_ bridesmaids."

The Senior Field Agent didn't dignify the comment with a response. He simply sat back and continued to watch the couple sway easily.

They started migrating across the floor slowly. So slowly, he had to wonder if she was even aware that it was happening. Just a simple step here and a small slide there and they were drifting toward the back corner of the floor, cloaking themselves in shadows that had him squinting in order to make out their next movements.

He was sure he was missing parts, but the actions he did see made his stomach turn. He watched Ziva's curls get tucked behind her ear. He saw one pale hand move up her body, coming to rest on the side of her breast. He made out the guy leaning closer, whispering in her ear as his other hand slid across her ass and pulled her against him.

Ziva slowed her swaying as she leaned back to get a better look at her dancing partner's face. She said something. He said something back. She laughed, but he could tell it was forced. It wasn't the kind of laugh she did when she was around him, where she threw her head back and let her shoulders shake. It was the awkward, uncomfortable kind.

The guy said something else, and Ziva shook her head. He noticed that they were moving back toward the center of the crowded dance floor, but this time it was Ziva leading.

They settled back in the middle of the floor. The guy slid his hand all the way across Ziva's body, and he watched as he gently turned her around and pulled her back against him. His hands settled low on her hips as he ground his own into her backside. She didn't seem too surprised by his actions, but she did manage to casually turn herself back around to face him.

Tony found himself sliding off of his chair and walking toward them without so much as a thought about doing so. He could feel Tim's eyes on his back as he weaved in and out of couples until he got close enough to reach out and grab Ziva's hand right off of the bartender's shoulder.

He pulled her to the side gently, sliding his body between hers and that of the other guy as he interrupted their dance without so much as a word. She didn't protest, but the other guy sure did, trying to get her attention over Tony's shoulder as he slowly moved her farther into the crowd to escape.

He rested his hand high on her waist as they fell into a rhythm together, the bartender long forgotten as another shift in the song brought them to a jazzy instrumental. They swayed together for several seconds before she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"Thanks."

He nodded, "You're welcome. I know you can take care of yourself and everything, I just couldn't sit back and watch you handle that _creep_ anymore."

She laughed lightly as she moved back to look at him, "He was not that bad, honestly."

"His hands barely moved off your ass for three songs straight. And when they did, they managed to get remarkably close to your-"

"I have dealt with much worse, Tony."

He sighed. A beautiful woman like her, of course she had a lot of experience with greedy men pushing the boundaries.

"It's disgusting. Men shouldn't act that way. He was treating you like some toy he unwrapped on Christmas morning."

She laughed again, "So I am to assume you have never danced with a woman that way? That you have never been the guy who can't keep his hands to himself?"

"That's different."

"How so?"

"Because those women aren't… they weren't…" Her expression turned unamused as he tried to justify himself, "Okay. I have been that guy. But it was wrong. And I don't do that sort of thing anymore."

"That much I can see," She said as she glanced down at his hand on her waist, much higher than she would have expected even for a friend.

And then something - a hazardous dancer or a careless wedding guest - bumped against Ziva's back and pushed her closer to him. Her leg slid in between his as she caught her balance. His hand tightened on her waist, whether in an effort to stabilize her or in response to her proximity, he would probably never truly know. She looked up. He looked down. They had stopped swaying. Their bodies much too close; their faces even closer as they just stared at each other.

Eventually, her eyes dropped from his and landed on his lips. He drew in a deep breath and ran his tongue over them before gathering enough clarity to speak again.

"I don't disrespect women like that anymore… even when it's _very_ tempting."

Her eyes shot back up to his and whatever she found there made her mouth fall open just enough to let her breath roll across his face. Minty. He wondered if she had popped in a piece of gum before her dance with the bartender.

"Very tempting to do _what,_ Tony?"

His heart leapt at her words. His stomach plummeted at her words. It felt like his body was being pulled in opposite directions, tearing apart right in the middle as his upper brain and lower brain failed to come to a reasonable agreement about what to do next.

He groaned. How could she even _ask him_ that?

"Don't do this. Please. It isn't fair."

Her eyebrows drew together, "Tony?"

"Seriously, Ziva. This is unfair. It would be a cheap shot. Please don't make me…"

She watched him for a moment before giving a slight nod. She took a step back, removing her leg from between his and loosening her grip on his arm.

And that just made it _so much worse_. Because it was an acknowledgment. It was a confirmation. She felt it too. Whatever tension he was feeling, it wasn't just in his mind. It was real.

And it was looming. Like a giant elephant in the corner. A knife dangling over their heads. A shoe just waiting to drop.

She looked around the floor. He watched her eyes move. They darted back and forth, not bothering to land on any one thing for too long. And certainly not landing on him.

Someone walked by them quickly, creating a light breeze as they went. It wasn't much, but it was enough to blow a single curl out of place, making it fall into her face and get caught on her lip.

He moved without thinking, dropping her hand and reaching for the stray hair. He brushed it back, his fingers barely touching her lip, then her cheek, then her neck.

She sucked in a deep breath, eyes widening as she looked back at him again.

"Okay, if my question was unfair, then so was that."

The corners of his lips curled up at the sound of the sheer frustration in her voice. She _definitely_ felt it too.

He found her hand again, and they swayed gently, falling into a surprisingly comfortable silence considering that damn elephant.

He broke it, "This is ridiculous, right?"

"What is?"

"This dance we do."

"We are on the dance floor at a wedding. What else would we be doing?"

"You know what I mean. This game we always play with each other. Back and forth. Inching closer and closer to that invisible line, only to walk away more hurt and frustrated than we were before. Why do we do it?"

She shrugged a little, "Honestly, Tony, we've been at this so long, I cannot even remember."

"Rule number 12."

"Oh, right."

They swayed together again for what felt like a really long time. It was probably only a minute.

"It's canceled by rule number 51, you know."

She turned her head to look at him, "What?"

"Rule 51: sometimes you're wrong."

She just stared.

"If something goes on for this long… if the pull is this _strong_ for all that time…"

"Then maybe Rule Number 12 is wrong," She finished.

"Maybe _Gibbs_ is wrong. At least about this."

"This?"

" _Us,_ Ziva _."_

She caught her lower lip with her teeth as she tore her eyes away from his, looking around the dance floor again as she mulled over his theory.

Finally, she swallowed, adjusting her hand on his arm as she met his eyes once again.

"You know what I think?"

"What do you think?" He asked.

"I think that if Gibbs is wrong about _anything…_ then it would have to be about this."

He smirked, "This?"

" _Us,_ Tony. Gibbs is wrong about us."

He closed his mouth, running his eyes over every feature on her face, looking for any hint of a joke, any sign that she didn't mean what she had just said.

She _couldn't_ mean it - could she?

But she had to, right?

Before he could come to a full conclusion on the matter, he noticed her face getting closer. More importantly, her lips. Her eyes slid shut as she tilted her head just a bit...

His hands flew to her shoulders, holding her back, "No. We're gonna do this the right way, Ziva."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "The right way?"

He nodded and reached down for her hand. Their fingers linked together as he started pulling her off the dance floor, across the room, toward the hallway outside of the reception.

They both found themselves squinting in the bright light.

"Do you think anyone saw us leave together?" She asked.

He glanced over his shoulder, still practically dragging her behind him, "Who cares, right?"

She nodded slowly. Old habits were gonna die hard here.

They were halfway down the hallway, hotel elevators clearly in sight. He picked up the pace. They had to get somewhere safe. Somewhere secure. They couldn't afford to lower _those_ floodgates until they were sure there would be no casualties.

But Ziva was growing frustrated. She pulled back on his arm, bringing him to a full stop before she ran a shaky hand through her hair.

"Would you just-" she started before she shoved him back against the nearest wall, both hands flying to his tie as she rolled onto her toes and claimed his lips before he could stop her.

Did he mention the floodgates? Because they sure were open now.

He had thought about what it would be like to kiss Ziva often. Much more often than any self-respecting man would admit. He had always come to the conclusion that the minute her lips touched his, it would feel like falling apart. His self-control would slip away, his sanity would leave and it would feel like layer after layer of defense mechanisms - humor, movie quotes, boasting about women - was being stripped away until he became completely unraveled and bare in her arms.

But he was so wrong.

Kissing Ziva didn't make the world fall apart. Somehow, it made it all come together. Every heartbreak, every rejection, every late night at the office watching her fingers move across her keyboard and wondering _how she was even real_ fell into a straight, even line up until this very moment. Eight years of confusion, frustration, uncertainty, and pain as they had brushed past each other every day and never stopped to allow themselves _too_ much contact, _too_ much comfort. His entire life fell into place as his lips moved against hers and his hand tangled in her hair.

This was his place in the world. This was where he was _meant_ to be. Now. Later. Tomorrow. Next week. Nothing would ever feel as right as this. It had been right in front of him for so many years and he was just now finding out that the one thing he had been looking for all this time, his _home,_ was here. It was her.

And fuck him if he didn't make sure he did everything in his power to stay there.

She was the first one to pull away, her breathing heavy as she slowly opened her eyes to just _look_ at him. She brought a hand up to his cheek, sliding it down along his shoulder, his arm, down to his hand that was resting on the curve of her waist. She pushed at it, making it fall farther south.

Their lips met again and they became more frantic, hands brushing, grabbing, squeezing their way over the new territory they had both been studying for years but never quite able to _touch._

At some point, her fingers ran along the hem of his dress pants before pulling at his tucked shirt until it was free.

At that, he had to pull back. He slid an arm around her waist and started guiding her to the elevator, his steps so quick and determined that she almost fell trying to keep up in her heels.

He pushed the up button aggressively, continuing to pump it as if it would have any influence on the speed of the metal box. She laughed lightly at his urgency, slipping her hand beneath the heavy fabric of his suit jacket and running it slowly up his back, letting it slide back down until she was almost able to grab a hand full of his-

The doors opened and he pulled her inside, hard. She stumbled a bit but two strong hands found her waist to help steady her. Once he was sure she was upright, he reached out and pressed the number for their floor.

"Your room or mine?" He asked as he loosened his tie.

She laughed. _Strictly business tonight I see._

One of her hands slid into the top of her dress, pulling her key card out of where she had stashed it in her bra, "My room is closer to the elevator."

He took the key from her hand, feeling how warm it was from being pressed up against her…

"That settles that then."

He grabbed her waist again, pulling her close and capturing her lips, reveling in his new privilege to kiss her and touch her and just _feel_ her.

The doors slid open to reveal an empty hotel hallway, complete with horrible fluorescent lights and stupidly placed decorative plants.

They pulled apart and stared at it, feeling the weight of what they were about to do pressing down on the air around them.

This was big.

This was significant.

She was the first one to move, stepping out of the metal doors and looking back, one hand extended to him in an invitation.

"You ready, DiNozzo?"

He swallowed, "Are you?"

She smiled and gestured to her hand. He took it and let her lead him to the door of her room. He slid the card in watched as she opened it, her eyes never leaving him.

He stepped inside and looked around for a moment before addressing another pressing issue.

"Do you have...um…?"

She closed the door and moved past him, sliding open a drawer on the nightstand. She held up a row of foil packets.

He looked at them, silently asking how she had known she would need condoms on this trip.

She shrugged, biting her lip as he walked closer to her, "Everybody hooks up at weddings."

He shook his head as he walked over to her and caught her lips yet again before gently pushing her back against the king sized mattress.


End file.
